Head over Feet
by Angel Reid . Tobias Dominik
Summary: Slash A series of songfics
1. Head over Feet

Title: Head over Feet  
  
Genre: X-men Evo  
  
Pairing: Pietrance  
  
Summary: Pietro's fallen head over feet for Lance...Slash  
  
Notes: Slight au and ooc, as I have never seen a) Lance being very kind to Pietro or Pietro being needy, and b) The end of Evo. I have no clue as to what happens to Magneto, so I assume he's dead. I do that a lot...  
  
'—'= Lyrics

"---"= Speech   
  
Lyrics from the song Head over Feet by Alanis Morisette.

------------------------------------ ---------------------- --------------- ----------------  
  
' I had no choice but to hear you.  
You stated your case time and again.  
I thought about it. '  
  
It was silent in the house; there were only two of the old Victorian's occupants at home that night. In the first room up the stairs and to the right, loud music blared and the occasional swear word was heard. Inside the room, a teenaged boy sat, guitar set precariously on his knees and pick between two calloused fingers.  
  
His clothes were tattered and torn; a price to pay for the life he lived. He had once thought he'd give anything for the high life of other people around him; the students at the institute lived well, as he had seen that for himself.  
  
But the institute had seriously lacked in something that the Victorian house held; there wasn't the unity that came from being tossed into a situation with three complete strangers that came from back grounds just like his.  
  
It also seriously lacked a certain light haired speedster.  
  
' You treat me like I'm a princess.  
I'm not use to liking that.  
You ask how my day was. '  
  
In the room at the end of the hall, there was silence; nothing would be heard over the music down the hall. Sitting on the military made bed, with it's crisply made sheets tucked in to perfection, was a teenager slightly younger then the one in the room down the hall. While the grungy teen down the hall's room was messy, the light haired teen sitting crossed legged on this bed had nothing out of place in his room. The broken dresser held what little clothes he had; the night side table was locked up, containing all his personal possessions.  
  
The cd player that normally rivalled the long haired oldest down the halls in volume sat on the dresser, blocking out the photos that were taped to the mirror. Photos of the pale boy with his father as a child, with his sister as well. One's of the occupants of the house on their latest outing, camping in the woods or swimming in a lake.  
  
And then there was his favourite; the one of the pale perfectionist himself with the older, long haired leader. Both were sitting on the couch, conversing over coffee and a guitar.  
  
' You've already won me over in spite of me.  
Don't be alarmed if I fall head over feet.  
Don't be surprised if I love you for all that you are.  
I couldn't help it.  
It's all your fault. '  
  
When there was a knock at his door, the pale teen looked up; he hadn't noticed the lack of loud rock music shaking the house to it's foundation.  
  
"Pietro? What'cha doin' in here by yourself? It's really quiet..." Pietro smiled, a smile he saved just for the teen before him.  
  
"I'm not doing anything, Lance. Just sitting and thinking. You know, since Wanda left, it's gotten a lot quieter here. Since Father..." Lance sat down beside Pietro, quickly putting an arm around the smaller teen.  
  
"Hey. It's not your fault. You couldn't have stopped it from happening." Pietro sighed, resting his head on Lance's broad shoulder. How he envied Kitty for doing this exact thing, being touched by Lance, held by Lance.  
  
How much it hurt him that he couldn't have what she did.  
  
' Your love is thick and it swallowed me whole.  
You're so much braver then I gave you credit for.  
That's not lip service. '  
  
Lance rand a hand over Pietro's arm, revelling in the teens warmth. He'd seen Pietro everyday for the past year, and still, he didn't understand a thing about how the Romanian's mind worked.  
  
It was complicated, and Lance lived in simplicity. He couldn't comprehend why things happened; why he'd been thrown into this war or why Pietro made him feel the way he did. He couldn't begin to grasp how the younger teen thought, why he did what he did or how. All he knew, the only thing that his mind could understand, was that Pietro had one consistency; Pietro wasn't consistent at all. Pietro was like the wind, he couldn't be controlled and wasn't predictable. Lance understood that, understood it like he understood that he was male, and the sky was blue, and that he loved Pietro.  
  
He loved Pietro? Shaking his head slightly, he glanced down at said teen. Pietro sat silently, lightly fingering one of the many holes in Lance's dark shirt. A smile graced Lance's face, and he pulled Pietro a little closer.  
  
He loved Pietro.  
  
' You've already won me over in spite of me.  
Don't be alarmed if I fall head over feet.  
Don't be surprised if I love you for all that you are.  
I couldn't help it.  
It's all your fault. '  
  
Pietro looked up at Lance, surprised when his eyes connected with chocolate brown orbs. Lance was staring at him, and he hadn't even done anything to induce the staring.  
  
"Lance? What'cha staring at?" he asked, blinking innocently. Lance smiled, chuckling at the question. Wasn't it obvious what he was staring at? He knew Pietro wasn't that stupid. He prided himself on his intellect, even.  
  
"You, stupid. What else." Not the most romantic line, but it touched Pietro anyways. Lance wasn't the most romantic person, so it was fair. He didn't need to be romantic at all.  
  
"Oh. Might I ask why?" Pietro shifted closer to Lance, tugging on Lance's shirt lightly. Lance moved his arm from Pietro's shoulders to his waist, shrugging nonchalantly. Pietro smiled, and Lance allowed him to lean on him more.  
  
"Well, I was thinking." Pietro made a face, sitting up slightly to face Lance.  
  
"Did it hurt?" Lance grinned, pushing Pietro onto his back. Pietro waved a hand in defeat, and Lance pulled him back up.  
  
"Shut up. I'm trying to be serious here. I was thinking that I...uh...kinda might like you. Or...I kinda might love you."  
  
' You are the bearer of unconditional things.  
You held your breath and the door for me.  
Thanks for the patients. '  
  
"You...think you love me?" Pietro stared at Lance, slack jawed and in amazement. Lance nodded, eyes on Pietro looking for a reaction besides shock. Something in those widening eyes.  
  
"Yeah. I kinda think I do. Uhm...how does that make you feel?" Happy, Pietro felt happy. He smiled, looking at his hands.  
  
"Makes me kinda happy, actually. Cause I think I kinda like you too." Lance grinned, and Pietro leaned in a little closer.  
  
"In fact, I think I kinda sort of love you." Closing the gap between them, Pietro leaned forward, capturing Lance's lips in a simple, innocent kiss. Lance's arm tightened around Pietro's waist, pulling him closer.  
  
' You're the best listener that I've ever met.  
You're my best friend  
Best friend with benefit.  
What took me so long. '  
  
Lance sighed happily as Pietro pulled away; this was the reason he'd come back to the Brotherhood. This was why he couldn't sleep at night; why he'd toss and turn and reach for a body that wasn't there.  
  
This was the reason he remained at the old Victorian house, even after Mystique or any other adult had disappeared and the group of unruly teens were forced to support themselves. This teen, curled up in front of him, snuggled against him. This was the reason he hadn't left, hadn't packed up his belongings and gotten away from Bayville.  
  
And he liked it, because he was the reason that Pietro stayed here. He knew it, because Pietro had admitted it on many occasions. He was the reason, he'd like to think, that this teen had gone from bad, to evil, and then back again, that he was the reason Pietro had stuck by their side when it counted.  
  
Pietro smiled up at him, then crawled into Lance's lap. Lance, taken by surprise, looked at him, the object of his affections and the reason he couldn't leave this dump of a home. Leaning forward, Pietro whispered into Lance's ear, hot breath on Lance's neck.  
  
"You know, you're the reason I'm still alive."  
  
' I've never felt this healthy before.  
I've never wanted something rational.  
I am aware now.  
I am aware now. '  
  
Lance stared at Pietro. What did he mean, the reason he was still alive? Was there something that Pietro was hiding?  
  
"What do you mean, Pie?" The question caused Pietro to frown. What did he mean? Lance was his everything; the reason he wasn't dead, the reason he hadn't gone off to rejoin his father those last few days.  
  
The reason he'd thrown himself out of dangers way several times when he had thought he hadn't wanted to.  
  
"I mean, if you weren't here, I would have been with my father when..." He trailed off, letting Lance finish the sentence on his own. It was obvious that Pietro hadn't had a good life so far; now he didn't see what Lance saw in him.  
  
"Pietro...look at me, Pie. It's not your fault. And...geez, Pietro, I love you. I don't want that to happen again. Look. How about we make a promise, okay?" Staring at Pietro, he lifted the pale teens chin to meet his eyes.  
  
"Okay, what kind of promise, Lance?" Pietro's heart nearly stopped it's mile a minute beat when Lance bit his lip, eyes wide and soul open to the world.  
  
"The kind that means we'll never do anything stupid like get caught in a war like that again. We won't let anyone tear us apart. Yeah?" Pietro smiled and Lance held him closer, and he nodded silently.  
  
' You've already won me over in spite of me.  
Don't be alarmed if I fall head over feet.  
Don't be surprised if I love you for all that you are.  
I couldn't help it.  
It's all your fault. '  
  
"Alright. It's a promise, Lance. No leaving each other behind. "  
  
-------------- ---------------------- --------------------------- ---------- ---------------- ----  
  
Well. That was sappily romantical. Reviews are welcome, and flames will be added to the fire that's heating my room. Man, it's cold in here...lol.


	2. Mary Jane

Title: Mary Jane  
  
Genre: X-men Evo  
  
Pairing: slight Pietrance (Yes, I'm a Pietrance whore this week.)  
  
Summary: Slash Pietro's feeling a little like Mary Jane right now...  
  
Notes: Slight au and ooc, same as in Head over Feet, but this time, it's because this is set a year in the future; Lance is nineteen, Pietro and Wanda are Seventeen (Oddly enough, my dvd says that EVERYONE in the Brotherhood is seventeen...) Fred is gone (Mostly because I can never write him...sorry Fred lovers!) and Todd is sixteen.  
  
Oh, I'm just making this a series of Alanis Morisette song fics, because I ADORE her cd Jagged Little Pill. And you should too.  
  
And yes, I am aware that everything I write is Pietro centric. You can't blame me, though; I'm just good at it. ::sticks out tongue cutely and waves:: Ja ne!  
  
'—'= Lyrics

"---"= Speech

::---::= Thoughts  
  
Lyrics from the song Mary Jane by Alanis Morisette.

----------------------------------------------------- ---------------------- --------------- ----  
  
'What's the matter Mary Jane, you had a hard day.  
As you place the don't disturb sign on the door.  
You lost your place in line again, what a pity.  
You never seem to want to dance anymore.'  
  
Pietro stared out the window, praying that no one would bother him today. He hated how Lance worried, and how Todd felt that he had the responsibility to cheer him up every time he seemed down.  
  
He hated a lot of things; He hated how Fred had left them, how he had a family to return to. Even though Pietro considered the old Victorian home, and the people inside it family, it still didn't compete with the real thing.  
  
He hated how Wanda still wouldn't look him straight in the eyes, how she still hated him for letting them take her away. He hated his father for turning her against him.  
  
So he'd take his hate; his anger and his sorrow, and he'd lock them in his room with himself, locking the door behind him. No one need a kill joy, and lately, that was all he was. A kill joy, no fun, he didn't even act his age.  
  
He'd gotten a job, to help out; he was a delivery boy for the Bayville Pizza Parlour. Lance had his job at the post office, and Todd had just gotten himself a job stalking shelves in the Bayville Superstore. Everyone was helping out; even Wanda, who worked in a animal shelter. Everything seemed to be going well.  
  
'It's a long way down  
On this roller coaster  
The last chance streetcar  
Went off the track  
And your on it.'  
  
But it wasn't, not for Pietro. Everything seemed to be speeding up, then slowing down again. The world would stop spinning when Lance walked into the living room late at night, and then speed up when he had to make it seem like spilling his soda was an accident.  
  
People were starting to notice. Xavier had pulled strings, gotten Pietro and Todd back in school. Wanda had refused to attend school; and Lance saw no reason to go back. He had a steady job, and it made him happy.  
  
In school, no one picked on Todd anymore. Pietro always stuck up for him; he was no longer the self absorbed, arrogant Pietro Maximoff, resident baddy and all around evil doer.  
  
Now, he was Pietro Maximoff, the teen who sat silently in class some days, the genius in the back row, the only person left defending Todd Tolensky. He was different, more mature, even. Even the X-men, those who still attended the high school, noticed; Pietro acted civil to them.  
  
Pietro was calm. And it worried people, because Pietro wasn't calm; Pietro was fast, and cocky. Not cool and collected, that was Lance's job, to be the adult of the group.  
  
Pietro was not Pietro any more. Pietro was a Pietro shell; a body which resembled Pietro.  
  
'I hear you counting sheep again Mary Jane  
What's the point of trying to dream anymore  
I hear you're losing weight again Mary Jane  
Do you ever wonder who you're losing it for.'  
  
"Pietro, are you sleeping?" Of course he wasn't sleeping; he never slept anymore, it seemed. Why did Lance ask questions he already knew the answers to?  
  
"No. What do you want, Lance?" The older teen stepped into the room, silent until he reached the younger teens bed. He'd noticed that Pietro was slimmer; paler then normal.  
  
"You're losing weight again, Pietro. This has to stop. You're hurting yourself by keeping whatever's wrong to yourself; please, just let us help." Pietro pulled away from Lance's warmth, the other teen catching his arm before he could stand up.  
  
"No. It's...nothing. Really." But it wasn't nothing; the bruises on his wrists proved it. Of course, no one had ever seen them, not until now.  
  
"Pietro...what are these from? Where did you get these bruises?" Pietro looked at his feet as Lance grasped at his wrists, wincing when the bruised skin was put in front of his face.  
  
"Me." The elfin boy whispered, "I did it. I made them myself."  
  
'Well it's full speed baby  
In the wrong direction  
There's a few more bruises  
If that's the way  
You insist on heading.'  
  
Lance's eyes landed on the darkened skin once more, before he dropped the arm and turned Pietro to look at him.  
  
"Why? How...what did you do?" Pietro motioned to his dresser, which was still broken from one rambunctious day last year, and showed him. Raising his hand high in the air, he brought it swiftly down on the table, the thud muffled by the ancient wood. Lance turned horrified eyes to Pietro once more, and the younger sighed.  
  
"It's called Wrist Banging. It..." Lance placed his hands on Pietro's shoulders, anger and fear in his voice as he spoke.  
  
"I know what it is, Pietro. Why are you doing it?" Pietro looked at his wrists, the more recently abused throbbing in protest to its treatment.  
  
"I don't...I don't know why, okay? I just do. It was something stupid the kids I use to hang out with after me and Evan stopped being friends did. And I do it now because it's addictive. It's like you and your aspirin...we don't like you taking them so much, you know. That stuff thins your blood."  
  
Lance sighed, shaking his head. This was not something he was accustom to. Not this; self abuse from Pietro, of all people. Everyone had always thought he loved his body more then anything else.  
  
'Please be honest Mary Jane  
Are you happy  
Please don't censor your tears.'  
  
"Are you happy doing this? Well? Does ruining your body make you feel better about yourself?" Lance hissed, tugging on the arm again. :: Why are you so unhappy, Pietro?::  
  
Pietro shook his head. "I don't want to do this, you know. But I can't help it. I'm not happy. I don't feel any better about my self. I'm just..." :: Sad. Lonely. I want to be held by you. Damn it, Lance, can't you see that? ::  
  
"I'm here for you, 'Tro. You know that. You...you do know that, right? I'm always here for you." Pietro nodded, and Lance pulled him into a hug.  
  
"Always and forever. I swear it."  
  
'You're the sweet crusader  
And you're on your way  
You're the last great innocent  
And that's why I love you  
  
So take this moment Mary Jane and be selfish  
Worry not about the cars that go by  
All that matters Mary Jane is your freedom  
Keep warm my dear, keep dry.  
  
Tell me  
Tell me  
What's the matter Mary Jane...'  
  
---------------------------------------------------- ----------------------- ---------------- ---  
  
Yes. Well. I couldn't think of anything for the last few verses. Can you feel the angst, people? And yes...wrist banging. Well, everyone's always writing about popping pills, or cutting wrists, so I decided to be a little original...well, maybe not original, seeing as I don't know it anyone else has DONE wrist banging...::sweet smile:: Lets just pretend, though, yeah? Ja ne!


	3. Perfect

Title: Perfect  
  
Genre: X-men Evo  
  
Pairing: ::ge-hasp:: None! Well, no; slight mentioning of Pietrance.  
  
Summary: Pietro's tired of trying to be perfect.  
  
Notes: This song seriously makes me think 'Pietro and daddy fic! Whee!'.....Seriously. Oh, and for all of those wonderful people who are demanding man sex? You shall receive. Next chapter. I swear. Just...give me a good song for it. It doesn't have to be Alanis Morisette.  
  
'—'= Lyrics

"---"= Speech

::---::= Thoughts  
  
Lyrics from the song Perfect by Alanis Morisette.

----------------------------------------------------- ---------------------- --------------- -----  
  
'Sometimes is never quite enough  
If you're flawless, then you'll win my love  
Don't forget to win first place  
Don't forget to keep that smile on your face.'  
  
"Pietro, I gave you a task to complete. I don't want to see you until it is finished. Is it finished, Pietro?" Pietro stared at his feet; holding his broken arm with his good hand, he shook his head.  
  
"No. I couldn't get it, Father. It was too difficult." Magneto's gaze turned onto his son, cold and threatening eyes causing the teenager to flinch.  
  
"Boy, I told you not to come back here empty handed! Are you mentally handicapped? Can you not comprehend such simple orders?" A metallic ball flew off the table, barely avoiding Pietro, smashing into the wall behind him with a metallic clang.  
  
"I'm sorry, Father. I tried to-"  
  
"Tried is not good enough, Pietro. I had high hopes for you, but you always seem to fail me." Pietro kept his eyes on the floor, shoulders slumping in defeat. Magneto waved his hand, causing the door beside Pietro to open.  
  
"Leave. Go to the infirmary, have Gambit look after you, I don't care. Just get out of my sight." Pietro nodded, slowly exiting the room, while Magneto's chair spun to face the window behind his desk. :: Such a failure came from my blood... ::  
  
'Be a good boy  
Try a little harder  
You've got to measure up  
And make me prouder.'  
  
Another day, another failed mission; another upset Magneto to deal with. Pietro and Remy trudged into the room they shared, each flopping onto their beds as they dropped their belongings to the floor.  
  
"Remy doesn't understand why you're still here, homme. You could 'ave gone back to de Brotherhood without a thought." Remy's voice drifted across the room to Pietro, who slowly sat up.  
  
"He's my father, Remy. I can't just...leave. He knows things about me that could be used against me." Remy sat up as well, leaning heavily against the wall behind him.  
  
"He's blackmailing you, homme? Dat's not right. You be his son." Pietro nodded, setting his face in his arms as he drew his knees to his chest. It hurt to move; the last mission had nearly been their last.  
  
"I know. It's because I'm not perfect." Face re emerging, the younger teen glanced at Remy, sighing heavily as he leaned back to rest his head on the wall behind his own bed.  
  
"No one's perfect, Pietro." Pietro sighed, shrugging as he lay back down, wincing in pain. Remy stood up, slowly making his way to Pietro's bed to pull the younger teen up.  
  
"Let Remy 'ave a look at dat, Pietro. You took a pretty good hit, petite." Pietro allowed his shirt to slide off over his head and Remy to attend his wounds.  
  
'How long before you screw it up  
How many times do I have to tell you to hurry up  
With everything I do for you  
The least you can do is keep quiet.'  
  
"Faster. Work harder. You can not keep up with the others, Pietro, if you do not work on your physical strength. I will not allow that to happen; go back out there and work harder. You are not to return until I am satisfied." Pietro nodded, trudging back out to the training area, where the Acolytes were still training.  
  
:: I can't do this. Father is asking me to do the impossible. :: The speedy teen mentally berated himself, going over everything he could do to progress his training faster. Even returning to the Brotherhood; which would ultimately mean failure and returning to an angry Lance; would be better.  
  
"Hey, Pietro! Over here, mate! C'mon, we can 'ave a go at the obstacle course!" John called, motioning for Pietro to make his way to where the Australian stood. Shaking his head, he and the other teen began the seemingly impossible obstacle course.  
  
'Be a good girl  
You've gotta try a little harder  
That simply wasn't good enough  
To make us proud.'  
  
"Pietro, why did you feel the need to dress up as a girl for Halloween? You're father nearly had a heart attack when he saw you." Piotr asked, looking down at the shorter teen. Pietro glanced over at the Russian, who was dressed as a cat, and shrugged, twirling around in his plaid skirt.  
  
"Because I look cute. Besides, it's not like Father's proud of me anyways, there's no need for me to aim to impress him by dressing up as him." Motioning for Remy and John to hurry up, he headed off down the street; polished black Mary Jane's clicking as he walked.  
  
Remy, who was dressed as Lestat, rolled his eyes, while John, dressed as a fireman, waved his plastic axe and whooped, following after Pietro with a pillowcase in hand.  
  
"We really are too old for this, homme." Remy stated, hanging back with Piotr while the two younger Acolytes made their way to the first house. Piotr nodded, but remained silent; trick or treating reminded him of Ileana [1], and it still made him feel like she was there.  
  
"We may be, but Pietro would not miss out on a chance for free sugar; nor would John. So put up with it for now, my friend." Remy smiled, placing a hand on Piotr's shoulder.  
  
"Sounds like a plan, mon amis. Sounds like a plan." He was about to say more, when a very hyper and very active Pietro appeared in front of them.  
  
"Guys, John's-gone-and-set-a-tree-on-fire,we'd-better-hurry-and-put-it- out!" Both older teens looked at each other, then followed the babbling Quicksilver to where John was dancing around a burning tree.  
  
'I'll live through you  
I'll make you what I never was  
If you're the best then maybe so am I  
Compared to him compared to her  
I'm doing this for your own damn good  
You'll make up for what I blew  
What's the problem...why are you crying'  
  
Personally, Pietro missed the Brotherhood. While the Acolytes were great to him and all, he really just wanted to be back in Bayville, shooting hoops with Todd or arguing over which sport was better, hockey or basketball, with Lance.  
  
He missed Wanda, and he missed the X-geeks. He even missed teasing Daniels, because that was what he did. He'd done it for what seemed like forever, and now he was sitting in his and Remy's room, alone, and blubbering like a three year old.  
  
"Pietro. Pietro, what are you doing? Why are you crying, boy?" Pietro's head shot up at the sound of his fathers voice. Magneto stood in the doorway to the room, hand raised to knock on the door.  
  
"You wouldn't understand, Father." The teen spat out, hands forming fists unconsciously in his lap. Magneto stepped into the room, eyes taking a quick inventory of how many belongings his son had.  
  
"I don't think I really would care, except that crying is a sign of weakness. No son of mine cries." Pietro hastily wiped the tears form his eyes with the back of his hand; and his father stood before him, poker faced and cross armed.  
  
"That's better. Pietro, I'm sending you back to the Brotherhood. You are no use to me here; I want you to go get them into shape. If we are to enter this war, we will be doing it fully prepared." Pietro stood up, nodded.  
  
:: I'm going home. I'm finally going home. ::  
  
'Be a good boy  
Push a little harder  
That wasn't fast enough  
To make us happy  
We'll love you just the way you are if you're perfect.'  
  
------------------ ----------------------- --------------------------------- --- ----------------------------  
  
[1] This is how her name is spelt in my French comic...I don't remember it in English. So. Was that good? Bad? Should I be tossed into a fire? Come on, mon amis! R&R for moi.


End file.
